Lady Ann's Folly: Chapter Three - Part Four

Burt led the way up the outside staircase at the back of the stable building and the woman in his lady-friend’s body followed him. This new Mavis had a smile spreading slowly across her lips; of anticipation and even of budding arousal.

She hadn’t had... intercourse since she had been a man and the memories of that time were faded. Far more immediate was the recollection of her attraction to the stablehand at her grandmamma’s house in London, the near miss they had shared. And she thought too about the kiss she and Burt had exchanged as the weir whooshed beside them, his strong arms wrapped around her.

But she wasn’t Lady Ann anymore. She was Mavis. She was nothing but the local strumpet; a wanton slag who was willing to debase herself if her man was strong enough. I‘m Mavis, she thought to herself. I’m Burt’s lass. I’m the barmaid down at the Dog & Pony. And I’m going to let Burt have his wicked way with me. I’m going to spread me legs for him and let ‘im ram his thick hard cock into me minge.

“By eck as like Burt, I must say,” she said. “I’m desperate to get me some of your dick in my fanny. Hurry it up.”

He looked back at her and grinned broadly, backing into the hay barn and drawing her in after him by both hands. “You don’t ‘ave ta tell me twice darlin. Get in ere and let me—Mnmmm.”

Mavis pressed her lips to his, grabbing his triceps and pulling herself against him. Their lips parted and her tongue pushed through and she giggled through the kiss, delighted that it was really happening at last.

Burt closed his arms around the small of her back, lifting her up on her tips and tipping her backward, pressing into the snog. Mavis lost herself to it for a moment, the swell of her passion overcoming her completely, then she snatched at him desperately, pulling him closer, moaning as their tongues entwined.

It was all the passion she’d been longing for from Richard but expressed in a way that was infinitely more primal and erotic than he could ever have performed. This wasn’t a formal and stolid physical process undertaken under sufferance of duty. It was passion and need. It was a pinpoint of desire and satisfaction. It was everything she had wanted; more than she could have expected.

Burt worked his kisses down her neck, pressing his thick fingertips into her lower back. Mavis raised her face to the ceiling, her breath coming in unevenly, going out again ragged and laced with physical emotion. He grabbed at her bodice and at the chemise, pulling them wider to reveal more of her pillowy cleavage. He kissed down onto them, kneading the enormous breasts. He sucked on them – another sensation that Mavis couldn’t have imagined. This was her first real encounter with a man since she’d become a woman and the newness was incredible.

“Oh Burt. Oh yes. That’s wonderful.”

He gripped her buttock with one hand and with the other he squeezed her breast out of its bounds, suckling on the nipple, chewing it almost painfully roughly and making her gasp in surprise and delight.

Mavis gripped the back of his head, his shorn bristles. His moustache tickled her bosom and the feel of it escalated her loss of control. Then he let her go and she dropped back and then he kissed her again, probing the inside of her mouth, tousling back as she responded with her own tongue. She snatched at his shirt but only managed to undo two buttons before she lost track of what she’d been trying to do when he worked down her neck on the other side and popped her other breast into view. Now both of them were protruding from the front of her bodice, the constraints of her chemise forcing them together into two plump dewdrops, one of which Burt kissed and muzzled, the other he played with under his big rough hand.

The masculine smell of him was all over her and Mavis breathed it in desperately. It was the stench of hard work and manure but it was the scent of a big strong working man – the man she only realise now that she’d been desperately wanting.

“I need ye Burt. Oh Gawd, I need ye so badly.”

He groaned, suckling hard enough to make her gasp with satisfaction but she pulled away playfully, luring him, fire-eyed toward her with a suggestive leer on her face.

There was no thought in her mind for the body or life she’d left tied up in the holiday cottage. For now she was only Burt’s woman. She was only Mavis. And the leery thought of that was concentrated in the soft and heated buzzing in the back of her skull.

“Oh Burt,” she whispered. “I didn’t realise ‘ow much I wanted you until now.”

“Then get ere,” he replied. “I want you too and there’s shit that wants shovelling before ‘Arry gets back.”

Mavis laughed, squealing with delight when Burt darted forward to grab her wrist. She pulled away, laughing, but he grabbed her other wrist and used his strength to pull him to her the prise her arms down to her sides. It thrilled her to be possessed in this way; to allow herself to be dominated.

A momentary thought of Richard came to her mind and she did laugh aloud. Would he ever have been this way with her? Could he ever? No. Surely not. And she wanted it to go on forever. She allowed herself to want that, just for a moment; to want to stay Mavis; to be the slutty woman of this most virile simple-hearted man. Surely they were meant for each other.

But the thought was driven from her mind as Burt turned her and lowered her to the floor. His pallet was still stowed away. They didn’t have even that faint luxury beneath them – just the bare hay-strewn boards. Mavis’s great bosom quivered as she fell back on her elbows, gazing rapturously up at her man.

Burt grinned down at her and knelt between her feet. He waggled his eyebrows and hurled back the skirt to reveal her legs. Mavis squealed again with delight and expectation. Burt ran his fingers down one smooth calf, taking it agonisingly slow.

He kissed her knee and ran his tongue down the inside of her thigh. Then he raised his head back up to her knee and gently blew down the moist trail, lighting up Mavis’s nether regions.

“I want ye Burt,” breathed Mavis, loving the sound of the Yorkshire accent coming from her lips. “I want ye so, so badly.”

He just looked at her for a moment. Then, like a faithful hound, he clamboured over her body, grinning and planted his lips on hers as he struggled to lower the front of his trousers.

For a second, Mavis felt the desperate urge for them to be naked, but then he pulled her drawers off in one strong motion and then pressed close again and squeezed his cock into her.

Mavis gasped, her body falling instantly limp. For several slow pumps she simply lay there, prostrate, unable to gather any cognisance. Then she kissed him, clawing at his back; gripping his rough cheeks. She worked her abdomen, moving it against his, and though their passion had been animal and desperate up to now, it was suddenly slow and warming. It was two souls meeting with this pure act of simple union. It was everything. Simply everything.

Burt played with her breasts. He kissed them, lifting them too him in his gigantic hands. He kissed her lips he kissed her eyelids.

“Ooooh Mavis,” he groaned. “Ye’re a right grand lass, you. A right grand lass.”

She beamed, pressing him closer to her and as she did so the buzzing in her skull seemed to be everywhere suddenly. It felt like her body were being lifted into the sky amid the clouds. She let out a series of tiny staccato gasps. She went still.

But Burt kept on pumping, growing more and more violent with each thrust.

Mavis still couldn’t move – such was the potency of the sensation running through her – but she could feel each jolt of his pelvis and the action carried her even higher into the firmament. She tried to scream in delight but her throat was too tight with the explosive intensity of it.

This was everything. Burt was everything.

It was the happiest she’d ever been in her life.